The Doctor, The Detective, and The Soldier
by normansgirl
Summary: Sherlock needs help to destroy Moriarty's network and calls in an old friend to help him do it. John ends up going along for the ride. This story follows immediately after the fall. Rated T for now, may change later if I get bored. Enjoy...
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Authors Notes: Hello. Thanks for even coming this far. I just wanted to take the time to say I honestly have no idea where I'm going with this story right now; I'm just writing so bear with me. Keep an eye out for updates, but I can't promise they will be regular. Please R&R to let me know what you think of the story so far. Now let's see where this goes…

Bang!

The sound of the gun shot still rang loud in his ears seconds after the gun was fired. He stood alone on the roof looking down in shock at a motionless body. Out of all the scenarios he had thought through so carefully this was not how he saw this meeting ending. He had many theories on how this meeting was going to pan out; each had a specific plan that would get him out alive, but this one, there was no plan of escape.

Moriarty was so keen on destroying Sherlock that he was actually willing to take his own life to make it happen. Sherlock should have known after the event at the pool that Moriarty was willing to do anything to get what he wanted, but he didn't. He didn't think Moriarty would go this far just to get what he wanted, but he did. Now Sherlock was looking at Moriarty's corpse laying on the high roof in the sun. He didn't and now he was in trouble.

Now Sherlock would need help.

Sherlock had minutes to act until Moriarty's men would carry out the order. He had seconds to think and he soon came to a decision; it was time to call in an old friend. All Sherlock could do was hope he would hear his call for help and be able to come and save him.

Sherlock slowly stepped up onto the roof for a second time so he could be seen. He looked down the side of the tall building he was standing on and looked to the ground below. He screamed in his head for help, quickly forming a plan, and willing his message to reach the man he knew well, where ever he was, the only man who could save him now, and hoped his friend would get the message. Sherlock was about to jump until he looked up and saw a cab pull in front of a shorter building ahead of him. John stepped out of it and started jogging around the building towards Sherlock. Sherlock called John and they started talking. Sherlock fed his best friend lies in hope that John would swallow it and be able to eventually move on.

Sherlock actually started crying. If his friend didn't come to help him then Sherlock was going to die today. He was going to die trying to save his friends, but this had to be done. Sherlock had to save Lestrade, he had to save Ms. Hudson….he had to save John.

"Goodbye John."

"Nope."

Sherlock heard his phone hit the roof with a clack behind him. John was looking up to him from the ground below with pleading eyes; he didn't believe anything Sherlock had said. How could he? John didn't know why Sherlock was doing this, but he knew something was wrong. If he could get Sherlock back to the flat they could figure something out, they could stop this all of this from happening, they could stop Moriarty, and everything would go back to normal.

Sherlock had come up on this roof to end things with Moriarty. He planned to beat him, get him to stop his games, and then return home to 221B Baker Street where things would return to normal. He looked down at John again for possibly the last time; John was here to take Sherlock home.

But Sherlock couldn't go home yet, not until he ended this, one way or another. He called for help, reaching out with his mind one last time….

Then he jumped.

He counted the seconds as he fell, hoping to be caught and be reunited with an old friend. Wind was blowing in his face and through his hair as he gained speed. He closed his eyes and waited to hit the ground, and then he heard it: a familiar, faint whooshing sound.

He landed on his feet with a quiet thud, the same sound now loud in his ears as he started moving again. He was now inside a building, he could tell, there was less lighting. He opened his eyes, he looked to the center of the room, to the controls, and The Doctor was standing beside him.

Floppy brown hair and small red bow tie, The Doctor turned and stood leaning against the controls in front of Sherlock. He might have changed faces again, but he still wore a warm and welcoming smile on his face. He looked younger than before, but his eyes had aged again.

Sherlock remembered the first time he meet The Doctor. He had short brown hair, a leather jacket, and big ears. The two had run into each other by chance when Sherlock was young and it wasn't long before The Doctor had convinced Sherlock to tag along for the ride. The Doctor swept Sherlock off on an adventure away from his home and they were gone for a week in total, and yet Sherlock was returned home in time for dinner the same day he left. The Doctor had saved Sherlock twice in that short week and Sherlock had proved to be an enormous help in The Doctor's 'work' even at a young age of seventeen. That one week lead into years of adventures and a lifelong friendship. The Doctor had worn the same smile on his face then as he did today. Usually fake and put on to hide his secrets, his fears, his past, and his demons. He was always happy when he took on new companions, but it would never last long. He loved everyone separate and dearly, every one of his companions, but eventually they all left him, one way or another. Then he was left alone and his smiling façade would return. He would stop smiling when he thought no one was looking.

But with Sherlock it was different; the smile was never put on. They had known each other for twenty years and they still meet up from time to time, though rarely now since Sherlock had John, but The Doctor was always there when Sherlock needed help. They were close and understood each other. The Doctor believed that Sherlock was as close as any human could get to knowing how he felt on a daily bases: Alone and Bored.

So when The Doctor looked at Sherlock now it was a warm and welcoming smile. The Doctor was welcoming an old friend back home.

"Alright Sherlly?" he asked with a welcoming smile.

"Alright Doctor," Sherlock greeted with a smile of his own. Sherlock's smile was never fake around the Doctor either. There was no acting around each other. The Doctor was the only person that could get Sherlock to actually open up even a little, except for John.

"You've changed," Sherlock noted.

"You haven't," The Doctor replied, still smiling.

The two met in the middle in a tight embrace. It was comfortable and familiar and the two basked in the moment before pulling away.

"How's John?" The Doctor asked curiously.

"Out of danger, for now," Sherlock replied.

"I got your message," The Doctor began, but was interrupted.

"Obviously," Sherlock stated, then added, "Perfect timing as always Doctor."

"Thank you, but I'm going to change the plan slightly Sherlock," The Doctor finished and waited for the coming argument.

"I told you what I wanted before you came to help me. If you won't help then you can take me back to Baker Street," Sherlock said starting to get offensive, beginning to think that The Doctor wouldn't help him.

"You said that you were about to die and needed help. You said you needed help to 'bring down Moriarty's network'. You want my help, with whatever this is, that's fine," then a little gentler, The Doctor added, "But we are picking up John tonight."

"The whole point of you helping me was to keep John safe. He has already almost died once from this. I need your help to finish this," Sherlock continued, trying to make a case.

"And I will help you as soon as you tell me what has happened and what it is you need help doing exactly, and we are going back for John tonight," The Doctor stated firmly.

"Why," Sherlock asked. "Why involve him?"

"Because I don't think you should be alone, either of you, and you know he can help Sherlock," The Doctor was trying to convince Sherlock and it was working. "We may need him."

Sherlock looked at The Doctor for a few long seconds before answering quietly, calmly, almost darkly, which was odd considering who he was talking to, "If anything happens…."

"I will take full responsibility and I will insure nothing bad will happen. We will pick up John tonight and together we will all fix whatever trouble you have gotten yourself into this time, eh Sherlly," The Doctor finished, grinning as he used his nickname for Sherlock. He looked as confident as ever and Sherlock knew he could trust the man in front of him. He always could and he felt a need to now. "Now do you want to tell me what happened?"

Sherlock nodded mutely as he followed The Doctor further into the TARDIS, through a few halls, until they arrived at a room The Doctor was comfortable enough with. They walked into a large sitting room area with plenty of tables and chairs that was connected to a kitchen. The Doctor made them both tea and they sat down in comfortable chairs at a round wooden table. Sherlock told The Doctor everything he knew about Moriarty and everything that had happened since he had been aware of Moriarty and his plans. Then the two began to form a plan.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

John let the door of 221B slam shut behind him with a loud bang that made the walls reverberate throughout the building for a good five seconds. John didn't react to the noise behind him. He just stood alone in the dark hallway until the walls became still again, then he slowly walked towards the stairs leading up to the door of his flat that he knew would be empty.

When he reached the stairs, he heard a strained whisper, "John." It was Ms. Hudson; she was standing half way in the hall and half way in her door just out of John's vision. She had tears running down her face and she was shaking trying to control her sobs. She had just received the phone call a few minutes before John had gotten home. She had felt as much as heard the door slam when John had gotten home.

John didn't bother to turn around or reply, he didn't even stop walking in acknowledgement of hearing her call. He just began to climb the stairs at an agonizingly slow pace. He didn't want to see Ms. Hudson so upset and he didn't want her to see him in such a state. It was best for everyone that John was alone right now.

Ms. Hudson's door clicked shut as he continued to climb. It was 4:00 in the afternoon, yet Ms. Hudson went to bed for the evening. That night she cried herself to sleep.

John slowly stepped towards his door; he had been trying to prolong the inevitable, and slowly reached for the handle. He took an uneven breath and walked into his vacant sitting room. It was dark, except for the light coming in through the windows, and quiet; John had never felt more alone. He reluctantly walked into to the kitchen and forced himself to make tea. He was trying to distract himself for a little while longer. While the kettle was boiling, John reached into the cabinet for a cup and out of instinct grabbed two and sugar. It hit him like a train and John replaced the second cup and sugar as quickly as he could, slamming the cabinet door shut angrily. A few minutes later the kettle went off and John poured himself tea. He slowly walked into the sitting room with uneasy feet and sat down in his chair.

John never touched his tea, he just let it get cold on the small table next to him as he stared at the empty chair sitting in front of him, and he let his thoughts consume him. John's face was blank, stone cold and hard, completely emotionless. There were never any tears, they were pointless and would solve nothing, that's not what Sherlock would want. John had looked like this since it happened, since the fall. John looked like he died inside and he had, his best friend had just died in front of him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He hardly talked to the cops and the one dumb enough to try and force him to answer questions almost got his head ripped off, quite literally. John looked like he had died inside and truly he had. He looked dead, all except for his eyes. His eyes were filled with a mixture of hate, rage, frustration….but mostly confusion and pain. He had just lost his best friend. He lost the man who saved him, in more ways than one, more than the man himself knew or now ever would, and John didn't know why. Why had Sherlock jumped? Why had Sherlock lied to him? Because John knew he had. Why had this happened? What had caused it? Why? These questions and so many others like them ran through John's head. After an hour or more of questions he would never get answers to, John's mind shifted back to the conversation he had with Sherlock when he was on the roof and he replayed it countless times in his head. He was trying to memorize it and hopped to find some answers hidden in it. John sat like this for more than two more hours. Completely lost to the world, hiding in his thoughts.

At around eight there was a knock at the door. The last thing John wanted was to see anyone or have to talk to anyone else, at least for today, so he let it be. Two minutes later there was another knock and John reluctantly let himself be pulled from his dark thoughts and walked to the door. He was again filled with rage and ready to yell at someone ('or push them down the stairs, but let's see how it goes,' John thought to himself only slightly amused).

John opened the door and was greeted by an empty hall way, the door leading outside to the street was just being closed with a quiet click. John looked down and saw a clear plastic bag sitting on the shadow covered floor holding a large black object. John picked up the bag and took it inside sitting it on the table in the small kitchen. He knew what it was the moment he picked up the bag and held it in his hands. In the light he could see the object better and there was a note resting on top of it.

_It took a while, but I was able to get them back. I thought you would want to keep them. _

_Lestrade_

John carefully removed the folded up coat from the bag and unfolded it letting it hang in his hands and Sherlock's blue scarf fell to the floor. Seeing the scarf fall and holding the dark colored coat in his hands, John was hit with a new wave of emotion, his stomach dropped to the first floor of the building. Now there were tears in his eyes, but still he refused to let them fall. John picked up the fallen scarf and walked back into the sitting room. He carefully folded the coat in half long ways and let the coat lie across Sherlock's chair, leaving it to barely hang off the back. John carefully set the scarf on top of it and turned to walk to his bedroom for the night. But as soon as John turned his back on the chair he began to hear a strange noise. It was familiar; he had heard it on the rare occasion but never questioned it till now. It was faint and sounded like it was coming from the street out front. John walked over to the window and looked down into the street below. By now the noise had stopped and sitting in the middle of the street was an old blue police box. John was sure he was seeing things, so he ignored it and turned again to walk to his room.

But before he even left the sitting room he stopped short when he heard the front door being opened and closed and two pairs of footsteps began to climb the stairs at a quick pace. John turned, a little confused, but was ready for either Lestrade coming back with some sort of an emergence or an attack from Moriarty's men planning to finish the job of their now dead boss. John wasn't left wondering what the intrusion was for long, because not a moment later the door to the flat was flung open.

And in walked Sherlock Holmes.

Behind him was a man, brown floppy hair and the same height as Sherlock that John didn't recognize, but John took no notice to him. For now he was too busy gawking at Sherlock, standing in his sitting room, alive and breathing.

"John."

Sherlock and John locked eyes as John walked to stand in front of Sherlock with only a foot of flooring between them.

"John?"

John tensed and, drawing his arm up and back, decked Sherlock in the face.

"Is that how people say hello these days?" The Doctor asked from behind Sherlock, a mixture of concern and confusion written on his young face.

John grabbed Sherlock's wrist and checked for a pulse. Even, steady, calm, Sherlock was alive and well. Sherlock was back and he was completely fine.

"Hello John," Sherlock said after he straightened up from the blow he had received. He had his right hand covering his right cheek just below his eye, but there was luckily no blood.

"Sherlock, what the hell?" John all but screamed in his face.

"The short answer is, not dead," Sherlock replied a little too easily with just the slightest hint of a grin.

John just stood motionlessly in front of the two men trying to keep calm. "I saw you jump, you were lying on the ground dead."

"Oh, no that was a fake," The Doctor intercepted.

"And who the hell are you," John turned, looking around Sherlock at the man standing behind him.

"I'm The Doctor, hello," The Doctor replied, walking to stand beside Sherlock, giving a small friendly wave.

"Doctor who?"

"Just The Doctor," was his answer.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" John screamed, turning to Sherlock again, not bothering with getting an actual answer from the stranger just yet. John had just spent the last several hours after Sherlock's 'fall' having to deal with people asking him questions and worrying over him, he had to fight just to get home, and grieving. Now Sherlock just strolls back into their flat like nothing happened. No, that is not ok, and John was going to get answers.

"John I can explain everything, but it will take time and it would really be e…" Sherlock began, but was interrupted.

"Go on then, I've got all night," John ground out, fixing Sherlock with a stern look and waiting for an explanation.

Sherlock knew that look all too well. John's parental, stern look which was almost always meant for Sherlock, it was rarely seen directed towards anyone else. Sherlock knew what that look meant, 'No one is leaving this room till you answer my questions'. "Alright," Sherlock gave in a little too easily, walking past John to sit in his chair. "What is this?" Sherlock was staring down at the clothes lying in his chair.

"Lestrade brought 'em by, he thought I'd want to keep them," John replied a little shyly.

Sherlock proceeded to remove the items from the chair none to carefully and toss them across the room having them land scattered on the floor. John watched as he did so with a slightly horrified look on his face.

"What? It was fake," Sherlock reminded him, not seeing anything even slightly wrong with what he had just done.

John sat in his chair across from Sherlock with a tired sigh. He rubbed a hand across his face and through his short blond hair; he was beginning to get a headache. 'Honestly, what was I expecting from this mad man in front of me. I should have known. No one can kill Sherlock Holmes, not even the man himself,' John thought to himself angrily, not yet allowing his self to be pleased that Sherlock was back home completely unharmed.

"Doctor, pull up a chair, we may be here a little while longer," Sherlock said as he wrapped his real coat tighter around his body and relaxed back into his chair, crossing his legs to get comfortable. The Doctor pulled up a chair next to the two men and waited for the discussion to unfold before him. He was ready to help answer any questions for John that he could, he only wanted to help.

"John, you must understand, there was nothing I could do. I had to jump, it was the only way to insure that Moriarty's men wouldn't carry out their final orders from him," Sherlock began to explain calmly.

"But you said you didn't jump, the body was a fake," John inquired.

"No, he did jump. I was just able to come by and catch him before he hit the ground and leave a very convincing dummy in his place," The Doctor cut in, thinking himself clever for having done so. "They'll never know the difference."

"How do you mean catch him? I thought you didn't already have a plan for this," John asked.

"Well he didn't, but I was able to receive his message and come to save him," The Doctor responded.

That hurt. It shouldn't have, but it did. "You saved him." It wasn't really a question so much as a statement of fact.

"Yes," The Doctor answered simply, smiling where he sat.

"Uh huh. And how exactly did you manage that," John asked.

"Well I used the TARDIS," The Doctor replied as if that answered everything.

"Sorry, what's a TARDIS," John asked completely lost, beginning to feel like he was getting nowhere.

"Yes, well, see, I may not have told John anything about you or the TARDIS," Sherlock cut in.

"Well where does he think you went this summer," The Doctor asked a little put out that he knew a lot about John and John knew nothing about him. "Or any time when you're with me?"

"Well this summer he thought I was here while he was at work, you brought me back after an hour's time here," Sherlock explained.

"Where did you go," John asked curiously.

"Oh we weren't gone long I just took him to a distant galaxy for a few…days," The Doctor had paused a little awkwardly, realizing it might have been a little longer than he had originally planned. At least they returned in good time.

"A few days, you said you were back within an hour," John repeated looking puzzled, turning to face Sherlock.

"Yes well, that's where it gets a little complicated," was the only response Sherlock gave. Then with a knowing smile he added, "Shall we go then?"

"Go where," John asked annoyed. He was completely lost, had received little to no answers for his questions, or at least any that made sense, and his headache was making a permanent home just above his eyes. It had been a long, tiring, depressing day all around for him and he simply wanted a few answers just so he could sleep at all tonight.

"Come along John," Sherlock called as he stood and walked straight out of the flat, The Doctor following on his heels like a bouncing puppy. Sherlock didn't need to wait and see if John would follow or not. No matter how much he yelled, whined, or complained John would follow him out that door, whether it was a completely conscious decision or not. John would follow him to the ends of the universe and back, just as Sherlock would do the same for him.

Little did any of the men know that they would eventually get the chance to do exactly that.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Author's notes: I'm sorry for the long wait for this update. I didn't mean to wait this long and there's no excuse for it. If anyone is still reading/following this story or if you are just now starting to read this story thank you for taking the time to read it. I'll try and do better from now on and keep the update times shorter. Now that I have a better idea of where I want to take this story it should be easier and I hope to have another update within a week. If not please hang in with me, I'm trying my best, and I've never been too consistent with my updates on my other stories anyway. Anyway, thank you all for reading my story and please R&R to let me know what you think of the story so far.

"Go where," John asked, equally annoyed and baffled, watching as the detective stood and walked towards the door. The Doctor stood to follow him out.

"Come along John," was his reply, then Sherlock was walking out the door and down the stairs.

John didn't give himself time to think about what he was going to do. He simply stood; mumbling to himself angrily as he did so. He ran to his room to retrieve his gun, tucking it in the back of his trousers, along with his phone, and bolted down the stairs, throwing on his jacket, and yelling after Sherlock.

"Sherlock, where the hell do you think you," but John was yelling at air. The street was completely empty, not a single person to be seen, except for the old blue police box that he had seen earlier. "Sherlock?"

John approached the box carefully. He walked around it twice mumbling to himself. "What are you?" Sherlock and The Doctor couldn't have gone far, but why on Earth would they be in here.

John tentatively pushed open the door. "Sherlock?" he asked again. But as soon as John stepped into the box his mouth fell open. "Sher…"

When John stepped into the box he wasn't just stepping into an old phone booth. He was stepping into an extremely large room with an extremely high ceiling. There was a large control panel wrapped around a tall column in the center of the room that reached the ceiling and was sitting up on a large, high rising plate form. Sherlock and The Doctor were currently standing around the control panels as they continued their conversation.

"Honestly Doctor, when are you going to teach me how to fly the TARDIS," Sherlock asked, his hand gliding over a few of the panels, his eyes scanning the various buttons and levers in front of him. Then he took a few steps back to lean against a set of railings waiting for The Doctor's response.

"I'll teach you when you're old enough to drive it," The Doctor answered, looking amused.

Sherlock was going to offer a witty remark in return, but before he could reply their conversation was interrupted.

"Sherlock," John called again from the doorway trying to get their attention. He was still slightly in shock and couldn't believe what he had just walked into.

"Ah, John, what took you so long," Sherlock asked, looking to the door where John stood.

"What is this," John asked in awe, taking a few more steps inside and looking around him.

"It's my TARDIS," The Doctor answered. The two walked down the stairs and off the plate form to meet John on the floor. "It's what we were discussing earlier."

"But it's huge," John exclaimed, sounding dumb even to himself, and walking inside a little more to meet them, "It's bigger on the inside, how is that possible, it's just a box."

"No it's much more than a box; it's a TARDIS, Time and Relative Dimension in Space. It's a machine that can travel anywhere and she'll take us anywhere in the entire universe we want to go," The Doctor recited a form of his speech as he had done countless times, smiling as he did so. "It's also a time machine."

"A time machine," John repeated, cutting The Doctor short of his explanation. "Like an actual time machine?"

"Yes," The Doctor replied simply.

"Well you do know how that sounds," John asked. Now that he was over his initial shock he was beginning to think rationally again. "A time machine slash spaceship? It sounds completely impossible."

"Oh nothing is impossible John, you should know that by now," Sherlock put in with a grin of his own.

"Oh and you believe this do you," John asked Sherlock. "You of all people?"

"Of course, were you not listening earlier, I've seen it for myself," Sherlock replied.

"Ok then, well, let's say that this is a time machine slash spaceship. How does it work and why is it so big," John asked.

"It's Time Lord Technology. You see the TARDIS is infinite. It's full of infinite rooms, all connected so you have everything you could ever possibly need," The Doctor explained with a grin, he always did when he got a chance to explain his brilliant machine to anyone. "Time Lord Technology, to put it simply, does exactly what you described. It makes things bigger on the inside. As well as have the ability to use time travel."

"Right of course it is. And what exactly is a 'Time Lord'," John asked another question, he had been doing that a lot today. Apparently he was the only person around here that was completely clueless of the current situation at hand.

"It was a race of intelligent beings from the planet Gallifrey. I'm a Time Lord," The Doctor answered again, his smile turning a little sad. "I'm the last of my species."

"What, you're an alien, is that it," John asked, cracking a smile.

"In a matter of speaking, yes," The Doctor answered, trying to recover.

Sherlock looked over at The Doctor and saw the shift. This was dangerous and emotional territory for him. John didn't need to know everything about The Doctor right away, so Sherlock decided it was time to change the subject.

Sherlock cleared his throat audibly before quickly deciding on, "John, I think it's time you were properly introduced. This is my old friend, The Doctor," Sherlock stepped to the side and gestured towards the man he was talking about. "Doctor, this is my friend Dr. John Watson."

"Ah yes, we didn't get a chance in the flat, pleasure to finally meet you John, I've heard a lot of good things about you," The Doctor said, holding out his hand and smiling wide once more.

"John, nice to meet you," John replied politely, shaking the man's hand. "Well now that I'm all caught up, broadly speaking, would either of you like to tell me why we are here."

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere," Sherlock spoke before turning to walk back up the stairs and to lean against the railing. Then he added, "This is when it gets interesting." The Doctor nodded for John to follow as his face split into a grin a mile wide and he bounded after Sherlock.

When The Doctor reached the controls he immediately began to push buttons and flip switches left and right, reaching over a long range of paneling as he did so. The Doctor was ready to show off his machine to his new companion.

"Sorry but, what are you doing," John asked as he moved to stand next to Sherlock as they watched The Doctor work.

The Doctor continued for another moment before looking over to the two men and calling, "Hold on."

The TARDIS began to make its whooshing, squeaking noise again, it almost sounded like the breaks where being left on. It was louder than John remembered, but he figured it was only because he was now inside the machine. After a moment of noise where it seemed nothing had happened, The Doctor flipped another switch and the noise died down, like he was parking a car.

"Ok, what did that do Doctor," John asked.

"Why don't you go find out for yourself," The Doctor replied as he stepped away from the panels and crossed his arms over his chest, giving a nod towards the door. He looked rather pleased.

John looked to Sherlock for confirmation and when Sherlock nodded John began to move towards the door. After a slight beat Sherlock and The Doctor followed after him.

John pulled open the door a little hesitantly. When John had opened the door he had been looking down. The only thing he saw when he looked down was black. There was no concrete from the street, no ground at all. Just darkness and a few flickering lights here and there. John then looked up and jumped back about a foot into Sherlock out of fright. He was staring out over the Earth. Sherlock put his hands on John's shoulders and lead him back to look out the door.

When John looked out on the Earth and the space surrounding him he had never felt so big and he had never felt so small in his life. When he realized that yes they were in space, they had moved and everything The Doctor had said was true, and when he realized he could still breathe, he worked up the nerve to actually stick his head out of the door. John looked out over the Earth, looked at the stars, and he felt tall standing over them. Then he realized how much space there was and he had never felt smaller. But one thing John was certain of, he had never seen anything more beautiful.

"Wow," was all John managed to say.

"You've been gawking for five minutes and all you can manage is 'wow'," Sherlock asked.

This brought a laugh from John and he answered with, "Yes, it's amazing." After a pause, John asked, "So, back when we were working on the Gollum case when Moriarty first came after you?"

John didn't have to explain anymore, Sherlock knew what he was asking, he always did. "I know very little about the universe. I don't think anyone can truly know everything. That doesn't mean I can't admire it."

John was slightly leaning out of the TARDIS and Sherlock and The Doctor where behind him looking over his head at the vast open area around them. John stood completely awestruck as he watched the universe move around him. He had truly never seen anything more beautiful and he couldn't believe he was getting a chance to see it.

The Doctor was looking out at an area he knew well with a look of utter adoration. This is why The Doctor never stayed still for long. The universe was always changing, nothing stayed the same for long, and there was so much to see. The Doctor never got tired of moving and seeing new things, but he loved to come back and look out over the Earth and watch it move through space. He loved to look out at the endless stars in every direction around him, wherever he was. But mostly he loved to be able to share it with people, with his companions. He loved to share the universe with the people he cared about and this was only a small corner of it. Though Sherlock had been many places with The Doctor already there was still so much to see and this was only the first stop in many that The Doctor hoped to be able to share with both Sherlock and John.

For Sherlock it had been too long since he had been here. Since he had been with The Doctor, since he had been in the TARDIS, since he had been out among the stars…..since he had been free. And now that he was back he felt like he could breathe again. Moriarty was gone, in a few weeks' time his network would be dismantled with The Doctor's help, and Sherlock would be able to go back to his normal work. After a week or two off with The Doctor and John naturally, after all, they would be deserving of a break after all their work was done. The Doctor was full of surprises and he never disappoints. Always a new place to go and see, there was never a dull moment. And now that John could travel with them there was no telling where the three may find themselves after they finished their work.

After a few more minutes of silence John stepped further back into the TARDIS and turned to face the men standing behind him. "So why are we really here? It can't be to just to admire the scenery."

As John spoke he pulled out his phone with a tired yawn. Then remembering where he was he put it back in his coat. He didn't know what time it was, but he knew it was late and he suddenly remembered he was exhausted from his long and draining day.

"Are you alright," Sherlock asked him. John tried in vain to stifle another yawn.

"Yeah, fine, just a little tired," John replied rubbing his eyes. He was still waiting for an answer.

"Let's wait till the morning. It can all be explained tomorrow," The Doctor said, stepping in. He saw that John was tired and starting to wear down fast from today. The adrenaline was dying off. The Doctor wanted to be of help. "You can even stay here if you'd like, I have plenty of rooms."

Sherlock had stayed in the TARDIS many times over the years. At one point or another he has had to stay for days at a time. He knew the rooms were big and comfortable, and The Doctor would have breakfast in the morning. Sherlock wondered vaguely if his room was still somewhere in the TARDIS. The TARDIS changes and rearranges itself with every Regeneration The Doctor goes through and yet Sherlock had only ever used one room and it never changed, though it may move. He had used the same room, even after The Doctor changed into his tenth form. Sherlock just always assumed the TARDIS liked him enough to keep it. But Sherlock worried that John may not be comfortable enough around The Doctor and his strange new world to be able to sleep here yet and that he may want to go back to Baker Street for the night.

Sherlock looked over to John with a questioning look on his face. "Don't look at me," John responded, "He's your friend. If you two want to have a sleep over that's fine by me," John was smiling as he looked at Sherlock. "As long you're asleep by midnight."

Sherlock returned John a frown in response which only brought a giggle from John. "Sherlock, I don't care if we stay as long as I can sleep." Sherlock smiled again.

"Excellent, follow me," The Doctor requested and the three proceeded to walk further into the TARDIS. They took many turns and walked down nearly endless hallways. The TARDIS truly was endless and they seemed to walk on forever until The Doctor finally came to a halt in front of the two men following him. The Doctor had stopped in front of a smaller hallway that only had two doors on each side and a door at the end.

"One room or two," The Doctor asked, turning to face Sherlock and John.

"Two," Sherlock answered quickly, not giving John enough time to be offended.

"Alright, John your room is to the left, first room. Sherlock your room is to the right," The Doctor directed.

Sherlock moved forward and opened the door to the room and found it to be the same room he always stayed in. He smiled; he was doing that a lot today. "It's the same room; it's just how I left it."

"Of course, no one uses it but you," The Doctor replied smiling, knowing this was in fact Sherlock's room and no one else was allowed to use it.

"Thank you Doctor," was all Sherlock said aloud, but his eyes said so much more. 'Thank you for coming to help me, thank you for agreeing to help me finish this job, thank you for convincing me to let John come with us, thank you for letting us stay here,' the list went on. The only other thing Sherlock said was, "Goodnight Doctor, Goodnight John," turning to each in turn, then he disappeared into his room for the night.

Sherlock entered his room and let the door close behind him with a quiet click. Sherlock could hear whispered goodnights come from the men outside and a few more words were exchanged between them before the hallway went quiet for the night. He carefully removed his scarf and coat, placing them on the hangers on his door. It was dark, but he didn't bother to turn on the lights, he knew his way around. It wasn't too special, probably the same as all the rest of the rooms in the TARDIS, except for maybe The Doctor's. But it was his, none the less. He removed his shoes by the door and walked on soft carpet to the dresser. It was far bigger than the one he used at home and he knew it would still be filled with his clothes that he kept there just in case he needed them. He had always kept clothes in the TARDIS in case he ever wanted to run away from his boring life for a while when he was younger and he still kept clothes for any long term trips. Sherlock walked over to the beautiful, dark painted, wooden dresser and he carefully stripped off his clothes till he was left in only his boxers and folded the clothes away to be cleaned later. There was a large TV hanging on the wall, but Sherlock rarely used, and he ignored it for tonight. Instead he walked over to his king sized bed, laying down in clean dark blue sheets and pillows and a soft black blanket on top. The bed left how Sherlock had made it last he was here. Sherlock sunk back into his bed, almost immediately falling into a deep peaceful sleep.

Outside in the hallway, John walked towards his door. He grabbed the handle before turning to say, "Thank you, Doctor, for everything." This was all John said, but like Sherlock he wanted to say so much more. 'Thank you for helping him, for doing what I couldn't, thank you for letting us stay here, thank you for letting me be a part of this' as much as John wanted to thank The Doctor he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

"You're welcome. It was nice to finally meet you John and thank you for staying, I'm glad to have you with us and I know it means a lot to Sherlock whether he admits to it or not," The Doctor was still smiling, it seemed to be his most natural look. "I'll have breakfast in the morning, but wait for Sherlock to come and get you. We don't want you getting lost in here and he knows his way around almost as well as I do," The Doctor gestured around himself, implying the large ship they were in. "Although I have gotten lost a few times," The Doctor added as an afterthought looking around himself at the walls of the machine. He only looked unsure of himself for a moment before turning back to John with another smile and saying, "Goodnight John."

"Goodnight Doctor," John replied and the two parted ways for the night. John entered his room for the night and The Doctor disappeared around the corner of the hall.

John walked in, taking off his coat and hanging it on the door, before slipping his phone out. He slipped off his shoes and stripped down to his boxers, laying his clothes on the dresser for the morning since he had no other clothes. Then he lay down, his phone and gun resting on the side table next to the bed, thankful to be going to sleep for the evening.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Author's Notes: Sorry for another delay, though it wasn't as long as the last one. This is just a short chapter to show where we are, give a little information, and advance the story a little. Please R&R, I love seeing new reviews pop up. Enjoy…..

6 weeks later…

Sherlock and John were currently running out the front door of an old, tall, gray, three story building and into the nearby woods about half a mile across a pasture to the left. Sirens were blaring from the building behind them and screams were echoing in every hall. There were several fires that could be seen blazing in different windows throughout the building. Each room with a fire had once held documents and files by the hundreds and computers with hard drives full of information that could bring down whole countries. The documents were of old clients and new, plans long carried out and some currently taking place, and of plans preparing for the distant future.

Sherlock knew that Moriarty had been working all over the world and he had a vast network of people working for him, but he hadn't known it was quit this extensive. Moriarty had clients, workers, and bases set up in multiple countries and once Sherlock, John and The Doctor had snuck into his main base set up in the middle of Ireland, surrounded by miles of empty fields, where all his work was organized then set to his workers in other countries to be carried out, and stole the papers to find where all his separate bases all over the world where located, they destroyed everything they could, bringing down the main base. With Moriarty dead and all the information destroyed the building fell on its own within a week. And that was their plan. The three would slowly bring down each building one by one, destroying all the information each organization had in the process.

The Doctor had taken Sherlock and John to dozen of bases and hideouts of all sizes all over the world and they slowly torn down each base one by one. Normally it was just Sherlock and John that went in. It's not that The Doctor didn't want to help, but he knew what went on in those buildings. Many of the men working in those buildings would be put down before the two men ran back into the TARDIS for safety and it wasn't uncommon for them to return with wounds. The Doctor knew the men that were being killed were bad men, they probably deserved it, and John was just protecting Sherlock, which was far more important than the lives of men that lived to torture and kill for their psychotic boss. But The Doctor was too good a man and he stuck to his word, he would never use guns and he never hurt people unless it was the absolute last resort. Still, it was better for The Doctor to stay behind. He kept the TARDIS waiting while Sherlock and John would run in and do all the work. They knew what they were doing and they always made quick work of it. In and out within an hour and they almost always got the job done. They worked well together, protected each other, and always made it out with only minor injuries or less. Since they started tracking down bases Sherlock, John and The Doctor had been to Ireland, Spain, Germany and America, as well as taking out a single hideout in the U.K.

The building Sherlock and John were currently running out of was the last building in Germany and the last hideout Moriarty's network occupied. Once all the documents had been destroyed and several of the men working there taken out, Sherlock and John made a break down the stair case and straight for the front door. As the rooms with the burning papers and smashed or erased computers began to fill with smoke, alarms started going off from the fires. Soon it was discovered that the fires had been started by intruders infiltrating the base and other alarms started to follow.

Sherlock and John were greeted at the door and seemed to have been surrounded. Lucky John was quick on the draw and didn't think twice about where he was aiming. He took out four more men easily at the door and he and Sherlock were able to escape, making for the nearby woods, though Sherlock was shot in the left lower leg and John's right arm was grazed. Still even with their minor injuries they ran as fast as they could, using the last of their strength to disappear between the trees and run for another mile into a clearing where they knew the TARDIS would be sitting, waiting for them.

Once entering the clearing, they ran up to the TARDIS and pushed their way through the blue door. The Doctor was standing at the controls and started to power up the engines as soon as the two were inside. John stored his gun in the back of his trousers and sat down on the stairs connecting the floor to the platform. Sherlock limped up the stairs past John and sat on the seat facing the controls. Pulling his leg up, he examined his leg wound. Luckily it wasn't very deep and when John got his breath back he would be able to treat it.

"Are you two O.K," The Doctor asked almost urgently, his voice dripping with concern. He saw the wound on Sherlock's leg and wondered if this wound would be worse than the last.

"Yes, we're fine Doctor," John answered for the both of them. He regained his air quickly and walked to his room to retrieve the medical kit he had acquired, patting Sherlock on the shoulder as he past him.

"Is it done," The Doctor asked again.

"Yes. We destroyed all the files and information, all the computer data and all of the backups in every room, everything. That was the last of Moriarty's bases and the last of his work. We did it Doctor. Moriarty's network is destroyed, dismantled. Completely erased," Sherlock stated, sitting up a little straighter, with a proud smile on his face.

"How many," The Doctor asked.

The Doctor asked the same three questions after every job: Are you alright, Is it done, How many. Always asked in the same order, the order of importance. Are you alright: It was The Doctor's job to keep Sherlock and John safe and he would never forgive himself if they were ever truly hurt. Is it done: If the job wasn't done then they would have to come back and try to clear the building again. Thankfully that had only happened on two or three occasions. And how many: How many men were killed during this specific job? Sherlock and John never killed anyone unless it was necessary, though it was almost always John that carried out that specific task, and it was always necessary to put down at least one or two men while clearing a building of its information. The Doctor understood of course, it had to be done, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

"Nine," Sherlock answered showing no concern and feeling even less. Sherlock knew why The Doctor didn't believe in guns or violence, he understood and even respected him for it, but Sherlock was still unaffected and understood that sometimes it had to be done to get a job done.

No more was said on the matter and by the time Sherlock had answered the remaining question John jogged back into the room carrying a small medical kit in his hands. When he reached Sherlock he sat down on the seat beside him. He quickly examined the wound before deciding to remove the bullet, use a disinfectant, and wrap it to heal, before gathering what he needed and beginning to work on the leg.

By now The Doctor had stopped messing with the controls and turned to lean back on them to watch John work. Once John finished wrapping Sherlock's leg he began to examine his arm while asking the room aloud, "So what's our next move, was that the last base?"

"Yes," Sherlock responded as he examined his wrapped leg, moving it to test its limits, "Moriarty's network is destroyed. Our work is done." Sherlock smiled again before continuing, "As for what comes next, well, that's up to you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well your work is finished. We accomplished what we set out to do," The Doctor began.

"The question is, are you ready to go home," Sherlock asked with hope in his eyes. He stood up and moved to stand beside The Doctor, waiting for John's response, and hoping it was anything but asking to go home.

"Well, what's the other option," John asked with slight hesitation as he looked between the two men in front of him. He saw the look in Sherlock's eyes and knew he had other plans then going home.

Sherlock smiled and turned slightly to face The Doctor. All eyes were on him and the room went quiet.

His only response, "Well the two of you can come with me if you'd like. You can go anywhere you want in all of time and space. Only one condition: It has to be amazing."


End file.
